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I Was Mistaken as a Great War Commander-Chapter 149
Freyen's interrogation technique was exceptional.
More than just talent, it bordered on a calling—she had extracted confessions from every soldier in the enemy platoon in less than a single day.
It was expected that once the platoon leader confessed, the soldiers would start talking too, but the speed of it all was undeniably absurd.
For reference, Phelp, the intelligence officer who personally witnessed the soldiers' torture, once described Freyen as “a demon with the face of a saint.”
It was an open secret that the soldiers guarding the entrance to the temporary interrogation site agreed with Phelp’s statement.
Laid out like this, public opinion might sound a bit harsh, but there wasn’t a single person who could deny that Freyen had achieved a remarkable feat.
Thanks to that, the next day, the Division Commander burst into hearty laughter and praised her greatly when she reported, “We’ve identified not only the enemy’s operational frequency, but also the encryption of their Morse codes. Cross-verification is complete.”
The next person he praised was Daniel Steiner, who had taken Freyen in as a subordinate early on.
The Division Commander, who now seemed to have shed all his negative feelings toward Daniel, declared that he would entrust the Chief of Staff with the task of planning and executing the operation using that intel.
And so, at present—
Daniel was in his private tent, discussing which operation would be most effective.
“I believe the most suitable location would be the canyon near the division. If we drive them into a gorge with only one escape route, we could wipe them out easily.”
Of the staff officers gathered, it was Phelp, the intelligence officer, who offered his opinion first.
The others must have found it reasonable, as no one offered any dissent.
Only Freyen, who had earned the right to attend the strategy meeting due to her recent merits, tilted her head in puzzlement.
It was as if her face was clearly saying, “Isn’t there an easier way?”—which made it impossible for Daniel not to ask.
“Second Lieutenant Freyen. Do you have a better idea?”
Freyen looked surprised at being called on.
Her eyes seemed to ask whether she was even allowed to give an opinion in a place like this, so Daniel gave her a nod.
With his permission, Freyen looked around at the staff and calmly began to speak.
“The enemy infantry brigade is going to teleport to the location we transmitted using Etherlium ore, right? Then wouldn’t it be better if we just planted mines there in advance?”
If they lured the enemy to teleport to a location already filled with mines, the moment they arrived, they’d step right onto them, triggering a chain explosion.
With that, victory would come easily—so she was questioning whether there was any need to herd them into the canyon and ambush them at all.
It wasn’t a humanitarian method, but it was the easiest way to annihilate the enemy.
Of course, the staff officers knew this too, but they hadn’t said it out loud for a reason.
Slaughtering the enemy without even giving them a chance to surrender in a favorable situation was closer to inhumane behavior.
But with innocent eyes, Freyen was essentially saying, “Can’t we just kill them all?”
At least when it came to enemy forces, Freyen’s humanity could be considered nonexistent.
Witnessing her complete lack of human empathy, the staff officers naturally turned their eyes to Daniel, the Chief of Staff.
Rumor had it, after all, that the one who had trained Freyen to be this way was none other than Daniel Steiner.
“How exactly did he brainwash such a delicate-looking woman...?”
“The Chief of Staff might be a brilliant officer, but a man of character...? Maybe not.”
“I mean, if it’s all for the sake of the Empire, I guess I can understand, but still...”
Convinced that Freyen’s twisted mindset must’ve been shaped by Daniel Steiner, each staff officer quietly nurtured their own negative impressions.
“I didn’t make her like that! She was always like this, I swear!”
Daniel, overwhelmed and wrongly accused by those silent stares, cleared his throat and turned toward Lucy.
“Lieutenant? What’s your take? Do you find Second Lieutenant Freyen’s suggestion reasonable?”
Daniel was hoping his aide, Lucy, would criticize Freyen’s suggestion as “inhumane behavior.”
If the person closest to him, who’d been by his side the longest, rejected Freyen’s statement, then the staff officers would realize that Daniel Steiner wasn’t a cold-blooded monster—Freyen was just a bit off.
“It’s reasonable. But inefficient.”
The problem was—Lucy was also a former test subject and therefore lacked a certain degree of humanity.
Whereas Freyen had discarded her humanity by choice, Lucy had had hers forcibly taken from her. But without knowing the context, no one could really tell the difference between the two.
“Killing the enemy outright is less beneficial in the long term than taking them as prisoners. We could gain the upper hand in future prisoner exchanges, and in an emergency, we might even use them in operations. Therefore, it would be more appropriate to place the mines along their escape route.”
Lucy’s red eyes blinked slowly.
“If the enemy finds themselves trapped in a canyon, and realize that their escape path is a minefield, they’ll lose morale and surrender. Making the Allied troops march toward the retreat route and triggering a mine as a warning might also work as an example. That is all.”
With her concise and precise explanation, the staff officers began nodding one by one.
They all knew Lucy’s method was, indeed, the most efficient.
Still, thanks to Lucy’s machine-like delivery, the misunderstandings the staff officers held about Daniel only deepened.
Confirming that the officers were quietly gauging his reaction, Daniel closed his eyes and thought to himself.
“Maybe it’s fine with Lucy, but...”
He decided, at least in public settings, never to ask Freyen for her opinion again.
****
Five days later.
Allied Nations Infantry Brigade.
“Comrades!”
Brigade Commander Rafahol shouted loudly from atop a makeshift platform.
In front of Rafahol, on the desolate plain, nearly three thousand soldiers had gathered.
“Today, we take part in a historic operation! Thanks to the tireless research and development of our nation’s scientists into Etherlium ore, we have now mastered the ability to freely manipulate teleportation during mana catastrophes! This is a monumental advancement—a stepping stone to leading our military to victory!”
From the front lines, the sound of artillery fire could be heard.
It signaled that the Allied armored division had begun advancing on the enemy trenches.
“As you all know, we’ll be infiltrating the enemy’s rear and striking the headquarters of those Imperial buffoons! Once they lose their HQ, the Imperial forces will fall like dominoes, crumbling into a bunch of disorganized cowards! Watch yourselves—you might gag from the smell of piss they’ll leak!”
The commander’s crude joke drew scattered laughter from the troops.
As he watched his men laugh, Rafahol’s expression suddenly shifted, and he shouted again.
“Today! We show those Imperial morons the true might of the Allied Nations! So fight with conviction! It’s time we let the cowards of the Empire witness our progressive triumph! Are we clear?!”
Shouts of agreement rang out from all directions.
Sensing that the soldiers’ morale had reached its peak, Rafahol raised his hand.
“Then let them feel the terror of the Allied Nations! Commence teleportation!”
Even before Rafahol finished speaking, officers and soldiers echoed his command and pulled out refined Etherlium ore from their pouches.
Each piece was a fragment synced with the Etherlium ore of the squads already beyond the front lines.
One by one, they shattered the ore, and bursts of light began to spread across the field.
As the soldiers began vanishing one by one, their outlines still faintly visible, Rafahol pulled out his own Etherlium stone.
Infusing it with mana, he shattered the ore in his hand—and blinding light swallowed everything.
****
Once the light vanished, the place Rafahol arrived at was a wide canyon.
And not just any part of it—it was deep within the canyon, in a space where the exit was limited.
The moment he saw the landscape, Rafahol felt something was off.
‘...What the hell is going on? I was told the coordinates would put us within visual range of the enemy’s command center.’
Nothing about this place matched the intel they had received.
The soldiers who had teleported with Rafahol were equally confused.
“Where’s the enemy command center?”
“What is this place?”
“This doesn’t match what we were told...”
Unaware that they had been deceived, they simply looked around in bewilderment.
Meanwhile, more and more soldiers continued to arrive in flashes of light, and the canyon began to grow increasingly cramped.
Watching the anxious troops, Rafahol issued a command as calmly as possible.
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“...12th Battalion. Move out of the canyon and secure visibility.”
“Yes, sir!”
The battalion commander, upon receiving the order, began leading his men toward the one and only escape route.
That was when it happened.
BOOM—
With a thunderous explosion, flames and chunks of earth erupted in every direction.
The shockwave tore through the air, flinging nearby soldiers like ragdolls.
Clumps of dirt and blood hovered in the air before splattering back down, and then—belatedly—came the soldiers’ screams.
As his ears rang with a high-pitched whine, the 12th Battalion commander screamed at the top of his lungs.
“MINES! It’s a minefield! Stop moving! STOP!”
Rafahol, who had been crouching down with his men, finally snapped back to his senses.
As he slowly stood up, he saw the 12th Battalion returning through the smoke.
While they were still in shock, a voice suddenly boomed from a loudspeaker somewhere.
— Ahem. Can you hear me?
The voice, amplified through the speaker, pierced through the ringing in their ears.
— You are currently surrounded. I repeat: you are currently surrounded.
Turning his head toward the voice, Rafahol spotted a man in an officer’s uniform standing atop the canyon cliff.
Flanking him were soldiers who looked like grenadiers, rifles raised and aimed downward.
Even at a glance, their numbers easily exceeded several hundred.
— With a single word from me, you will all be exposed to bombardment. I suggest you do not attempt escape. I won’t bother explaining why. You just experienced it.
As the smoke began to settle and the air cleared, the voice continued:
— So drop your weapons and surrender. This is the first and last mercy I will offer you.
Only then did Rafahol see it.
The golden cross medal pinned to the uniform of the man holding the loudspeaker.
“Daniel Steiner...”
The realization that he had walked straight into the man’s trap sent rage boiling through his chest.
Rafahol clenched his teeth hard—but if he refused this offer, it would only mean a meaningless death.
Clenching his fists in bitter frustration, Rafahol took a deep breath, pulled out his pistol, and tossed it to the ground.
No matter how many possibilities he ran through in his mind, the moment they stepped into this canyon, it was clear they wouldn’t get out without Daniel Steiner’s permission.
“...Everyone, surrender.”
“But sir—”
“I gave an order to surrender!”
As the brigade commander barked out the order, the sound «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» of weapons being dropped echoed throughout the canyon.
It was a stunning victory achieved by Daniel Steiner, Chief of Staff of the 7th Division, within just one hour of the battle’s start.
Soaked in the sting of defeat, Rafahol looked up at Daniel Steiner and was overwhelmed by a crushing sense of helplessness.
‘The Allied Nations have reached the pinnacle of teleportation technology. We developed a technique the Empire couldn’t even make practical. And yet this man... he turned our own tech against us like it was nothing.’
From atop the cliff came the shouts of Imperial soldiers demanding they discard their weapons and kneel.
The Allied soldiers, who had moments ago burned with resolve, began dropping to their knees one by one, fear now etched across their faces.
Daniel Steiner looked down at those soldiers as if they were already in the palm of his hand—expressionless.
‘...Even after such a decisive victory, he shows no joy.’
As if to say that victory was nothing but a given.
Seeing that, Rafahol was certain of one thing.
‘As long as Daniel Steiner lives...’
The Allied Nations will never win.